


Maybe You'd Be Something I'd Be Good At

by foxfire60441



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxfire60441/pseuds/foxfire60441
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They started out as beards. And, ok, maybe they became friends (not that either would want to admit it). The behind the scenes view of Santana and Karofsky's friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was always curious about Santana and Karofsky's friendship. They bearded for one another, but I'd like to think they became close friends. This is my attempt to see that happen.

Karofsky is seriously the best lesbro ever. Except he's just as gay as Santana, so there's that. She approves.

The time that straight couples would use to get it on, this bearded pair banters about their same-sex crushes. They spend most of their time together discussing Ryan Reynold's hotness (Dave) and the sexiness that is Leisha Hailey (Santana). The pair also partake in DVD marathons of "Queer As Folk" and "The L Word." "These shows are like staples for us or something," Santana announces, passing him a bowl of popcorn. "We're practically obligated to watch this shit." Karofsky finds he can't disagree.

"Sometimes I wish we weren't gay," Santana muses, laying her head on Karofsky's broad shoulder.

"Totally," he agrees. "If I was straight, I'd so do you."

The pair lay in silence for a moment, before breaking out into laughter. 

"D, you're practically too gay to beard for me," Santana says, punching Karofsky's meaty bicep.

He snorts. "Please, like you're any less obvious. Your gay panic and sleeping with guys was amusing, but you're so in love with Brittany, it's ridiculous."

Santana stiffens against him. "Fuck you, asshole."

"It's the only time you'll say fuck around a man and mean it," he volleys back smartly. 

Santana simply grunts and snuggles into him. "Cuddle me, bitch. You fucking fairy."

Karofsky just smiles and pulls her in closer. 

Yeah, they're friends, and have become close and shit, but they just don't discuss feelings, ok?


	2. Chapter 2

Santana is the first to break the no talking about feelings rule. "D, I totally fucking love her."

Karofsky eyes her closely. "Do you mean that, or it is just you wanting something you can't have?"

"Hey, screw you," Santana snarls at him. "Just because Kurt doesn't want you doesn't mean Brittany doesn't love me too."

"Whoa, calm down," Karofsky exclaims, waving his hands. "She wants to hang out with you more, so that's....progress?"

"No," Santana argues, tears in her eyes. "I don't think Brittany loves me the same way I love her."

Karofsky anticipates her next move, and catches her in a hug. "I'm sorry, San," he whispers into her hair.

"Not as sorry as I am," Santana murmurs into his chest.

He tightens his hold on her. "S, you gotta do something."

Santana lifts her head and gazes up at him, squinting suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Karofsky rolls his eyes. "Duh, bitch, you have to win her over."

She (accidentally?) elbows him in the side. "How the hell do I do that?"

"Woo her," he suggests.

"Woo!" Santana repeats, nearly howling with laughter. "Dude, I didn't realize this was the 50's!"

Karofsky lets out a huff and smacks her shoulder as the Latina settles down and leans back into him. "Seriously, S, you gotta do something to make Brittany realize you want to be with her."

Santana hums in response, "Maybe."

"Try?" he asks earnestly. "For me?"

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I can consider it, D, since you have used your fairy influence on me."

Karofsky grins. Bitchy, sarcastic Santana is always fun. He'd be hard-pressed to find a more entertaining fake girlfriend.


	3. Chapter 3

So Karofsky has transferred to a new school. There's no obviously gay kids here to relate to, and even worse, no snarky Santana. It only takes an hour before he realizes he misses Santana.

He calls her right away. "What's wrong, gaymo?" she asks immediately upon answering. 

"I could ask you the same," he fires back.

"Damn, you're good," Santana answers.

"How's my favorite beard?" Karofsky asks. 

"Miserable," Santana admits. "Brittany chose Artie over me. How is that possible? Look at me! I'm sex on a stick! Even your gay ass can admit that."

He chuckles. "Like you're one to judge in the gay department, you bitch. You're just as queer as me."

There's a silence. "You're right. And I miss you, asshole."

Karofsky dismisses her abrasive behavior. "I miss you, too, San."

Santana laughs deeply, "Yeah, yeah, you fucker."

They make plans to meet weekly at the Lima Bean for coffee and gossip. He hangs up and feels that much better about everything.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," Santana starts, staring him down over coffee at the Lima Bean.

"So?" Karofsky replies, raising his eyebrows. 

"We should come out," Santana states matter-of-factly.

Startled, he nearly spills his drink. "Are you crazy, San?"

"Hear me out, D," the Latina insists. "Britt won't be with me unless I'm honest and step out of my flannel closet. I love her and can't be without her, so maybe it's time to admit I'm gay."

"You're insane," Karofsky spits, shaking his head.

Glaring at him, Santana takes a long sip from her cup. "Dave, look, I really love B. And I'm so goddamn tired of hiding who I am. Everyday feels like a battle, and I'm so worn out. I'm so over this denial thing. And it would really help if you would take a step out of the closet with me."

"S, I'm not sure I can do that," Karofsky admits, biting his lip. "What about your parents?"

"Dude, my parents hardly are around enough to care," Santana replies with a bitter chuckle. "I'm more worried about my abuela. But I just can't lie anymore."

"Tana, if you want to come out, I'll be there to back you up. You know that."

"Thanks, D, but you need to do the same. As Britt would tell us, let's be brave."

He draws in a shaky breath before replying, "Ok, Santana, we'll both come out together soon."

Santana's grin can practically be felt in the air. "Awesome. We'll come out to our families, declare our same-sex loves, and go from there."

Karofsky can't fight his euphoric smile at her statement. "Gay all the way," he proclaims, giving her a fist bump.

"Fo sho," Santana says, faux ghetto accent firmly in place, and he laughs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Karofsky has just gotten home from school when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Remembering he's had it on silent all day during class, he retrieves it and is surprised to see he has 7 missed calls and 4 text messages, all from Santana (her name in his contact list is - purely affectionately - Bitch).

He quickly calls her, and after 5 rings he is greeted by a sobbing mess. "S?" Karofsky stutters, concerned.

"D," Santana manages with a hiccup. "Everyone's about to know."

He freezes, nearly dropping his phone. "Lopez, do you mean what I think you do?"

Karofsky can almost hear her nod through the phone. "Finn fucking Hudson outed my ass in the hallway. If that wasn't bad enough, news spread along and got back to Coach Sylvester's campaign opponent. There's a political ad that's gonna out me as a lesbian set to run across the entire state."

"Oh my God," he whispers, fingers tightening around his phone.

"I was about to come out on my own," she murmurs. "You knew that. We had a plan, remember? Announcing our gayness together. Fuck all the haters. You and me against the world."

Sighing, Karofsky settles onto his bed. "I know, Tana. You were ready. And I would fuck up anyone that tried to hurt you."

"I don't know what to do," Santana admits brokenly, sniffling down the line.

Drawing in a deep breath, Karofsky tries to calm his pounding heartbeat. "S, you gotta tell your parents. It needs to come from you, and not some fucked up ad."

"I know, D," Santana agrees with a sigh. "I just hope they don't hate me."

"Lopez, they won't hate you," Karofsky assures her. "Besides, you've always got me, Brittany, Quinn, and the Glee Club."

It's silent a moment before Santana murmurs, "You're a good friend, Dave."

Hoping to lighten the mood, he answers with, "Want me to kill Hudson for you?" He's actually almost a little serious about this - one word of encouragement from the Latina and Karofsky will happily hunt down Finn Hudson and beat the living shit out of him for outing Santana. Yeah, their friendship tends to ignore feelings, but he can't help but feel protective towards her. Besides, you don't just throw someone out of the closet like that against their will. Who in the hell does that - oh yeah, that fucktard Hudson, that's who. Karofsky feels his hand involuntarily tighten into a fist. He's not ready to be out yet, so he can only imagine how Santana feels after her forced outing.

She lets out a little laugh. "Come on, D, like I couldn't take his overly tall ass myself. I already slapped him today. I can hold my own."

He feels a rush of pride hearing this. "Awww, you big, bad dyke, you," Karofsky teases. 

"Whatever, I'm more butch than you'll ever be," Santana instantly answers. And with that, he's comfortable with the fact she'll be ok.


	4. Chapter 4

The news of Karofsky's attempted suicide hits her hard. She talked to him, tried to strategize, and oh my God - that could have been her. Santana would argue her ass off to anyone, but yeah, she thought about it. When she first realized she was gay, the idea crossed her mind. But she knew she could never do it because, well, Brittany.

Brittany's hugs fail to calm her for once, and the YouTube videos about gay teens ending their lives being forced on her (again!) only anger her. It brings to mind stupid Hudson forcing lady music week on her as if that made up for outing Santana, and his insinuations that the asshole did it for her benefit. With these thoughts, she forces her way into Karofsky's hospital room.

"You fucker," Santana spits, "I thought we were gonna do this together. We were gonna come out at the same time. Yeah, that option was taken away from me when the jolly green giant horribly outed me, but I was totally ready to help you out of that damn closet and back you up. I could have helped you done it right."

"I couldn't take it anymore," Karofsky admits, fidgeting with his hospital-issued sheets. "And fag was written on my locker. I didn't handle it well, obviously."

"No, no, you can't do this to me," Santana manages, tears blinding her vision. "How would you feel if I slit my wrists because I couldn't handle being gay, or loving Brittany?" she manages to say. 

"I'd be devastated," he replies honestly.

"Exactly. How could you," Santana pauses, pressing her fists into her eyes, suspiciously bright with tears. "How could you do this to me, you asshole?"

Sobbing lightly, Karofsky grabs her hand. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared about my dad knowing."

Santana runs her free hand through his hair. "Dave, not all parents suck. Mine accepted me. Give your old man a little credit. Family can be cool."

"Abuela," he reminds her. The brunette stiffens beside him.

"Shit," she murmurs under her breath. "Bro, I'm pretty sure my abuela is an exception. The world is more accepting these days - I've learned that first-hand. Be proud of who you are and own it."

Karofsky hears her words and feels ridiculously proud at the progress his friend has made at accepting herself. Now if only he could do the same. "I really am sorry for putting you through this," he reiterates.

Santana rests her head atop his. "I know, Dave, I know." She sits quietly for a moment before saying, "I forgive you." She pauses again before adding, "We could have made this the lesson of the moment in Glee."

Karofsky shakes his head and sighs. "San, leave that stupid Glee Club out of this, will you?"

The Latina simply smiles and squeezes his hand tighter. "I'm still mad at you, asshole."

Hesitantly, Karofsky loops an arm around her. "Are you sure it's just me you're mad at?"

Eying him warily Santana says, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just," he pauses, uncertain. "You have a lot of anger."

"Of course I do!" She snaps, instantly on the defensive. "You were publicly demeaned for your sexuality and that's not right! You can't do that to someone! No one deserves to be insulted for something they can't change. You did it to Kurt, but it was because of your own confused feelings. You were hiding who you were and now..."Santana trailed off.

"Now everyone knows because of a well-known event?" He guesses, watching her closely. "You're not over it, are you?"

"Over what?" Santana snarls, her words lacking their usual venom. Sighing, she slumps beside him. "Dave, I'm over it. I really am. My dirty laundry got aired to the whole state." Her eyes met his. "I really am ok, however I lied about one thing. I don't forgive Finn, I just can't. I pretended to, but I'll never truly forgive him."

"And that's ok. I kinda figured that, and it's why I pushed you. It's ok not to forgive Hudson, just like I won't be able to forgive the guy that defaced my locker. I just wanted you to get the anger out," Karofsky admits.

"We're quite the pair," Santana sighs, ruffling his hair once more. "Dave, just promise me...you won't do anything stupid like this again? For me?"

Unable to resist her vulnerable side and puppy dog eyes, Karofsky smiles back. "You have my word, Tana. Life is worth living."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Groggily he reaches for the ringing phone on his nightstand. "Hello?" He slurs out tiredly.

"Come let me in, bitch," her voice snaps back at him.

With a groan, Karofsky ambles out of bed and shuffles to the front door. On the other side is a devastated Santana. "Me and Britts broke up," she says in lieu of a greeting.

He gapes at her. "Excuse me? And why aren't you in Louisville?"

"You heard me, you douche. We broke up," she hisses out, pushing past him and stomping toward his bedroom.

Gobsmacked, Karofsky follows. He hesitantly watches the Latina a moment as she rifles through his drawers, finding a large t-shirt to sleep in. Santana slips past him to the bathroom to change. Still stunned, he sits on the bed and leans back into the pillows. 

Minutes later, Santana storms back into his room and throws herself down on the bed beside him. "So?" he begins hesitantly. 

She lets out a laugh that suspiciously sounds like a sob. "We broke up, D."

"I wouldn't hit a girl, but S...you know what I mean. That goddamn Brittany. Bisexual girls are trouble for lesbians," Karofsky utters, wishing the worst for the blonde.

"Calm your tits, Dave," Santana sniffles. "It was me. I broke up with her."

Karofsky's jaw drops. "What? San, what the actual fuck?"

Santana leans into him, laying a heavy head onto his shoulder. "Bro, it was the mature thing to do. Long-distance relationships never work. And," she pauses here, biting her lip guilty. "I kinda had this moment with this chick at the library at school."

"Moment?" he questions.

"An energy exchange," the Latina supplies. 

Incredulous, Karofsky practically shoves her away. "Energy what? Oh my God, you're such a lesbian!"

Slapping his arm, Santana answers, "Fucking duh, dude. Look, I'm just trying to do the right thing here."

Softening, Karofsky slings an arm around her thin shoulders. "Explain, please."

Santana rubs her hand across her face. "The long-distance thing never works. And I don't want to distract her from graduating - again. It hurts us to be apart, but we both have a lot of growing up to do before we settle down." Her eyes begin to tear up again. "I feel like the reason she failed senior year in the first place was because of me. She was worried about me coming out, then the campaign ad scandal, and in the end I distracted Brittany from her grades."

"S, it wasn't your fault," Karofsky argues, squeezing her shoulder. "Even with all that happened to you, you kept up your grades and got a cheer scholarship to Kentucky." Seeing Santana about to protest, he raises a hand in warning. "I know, I know, Britt, got you the scholarship through...interesting methods."

Santana smiles faintly. "She did what she thought was best for me by posting that video. And now I have to return the favor. Brittany has to graduate, and if I have to step back to let it happen, then so be it."

Karofsky's quiet a moment. "Dude, that's deep." He squeezes her shoulder, hoping to reign in her emotions. "C'mon, San, lets get to sleep."

Santana exhaustedly slides under the covers beside him. "Good thing we're both gay, or your mom would probably freak out that you have sleepovers with a chick."

Rolling his eyes, Karofsky wraps his arms around her waist and allows himself to snuggle up against the Latina. "Shut up, S. My turn to be the big spoon. You're such a top."


	5. Chapter 5

Karofsky bounces on the balls of his feet, eagerly awaiting his companion. He is soon rewarded with the sight of a brunette striding through the doors. Santana glides across the coffee shop like she owns the place before plopping into the seat across from him. "Dave, spill," she demands.

"I ordered our usual," he says, avoiding her unanswered question. 

"Great," she responds. "As I said before, spill."

"I have a date this weekend," he admits.

Santana lets out a small squeal, grabbing his hand happily, before glancing around surreptitiously to make sure no one saw. "Dave! Details!"

Grinning, Karofsky squeezes her hand. "His name's Jamie. Brown hair, blue eyes, and dreamy. I'm excited."

"D, I'm so excited for you! Awww, they grow up so fast," Santana says, wiping away a fake tear. 

"Yeah, well," he states modestly with a slight shrug. Their drinks are delivered to their table and he can't help but stare at her.

"What?" Santana demands.

"You're glowing," Karofsky accuses. 

She pushes her coffee cup aside. "I slept with Quinn," she says casually.

He almost chokes on his mouthful of coffee. "Say what?"

"Q and I had sex after Schue's non-wedding yesterday. Brittany is with Sam now and they were all in my face. Quinn was flirting and wanted to experiment, so...it is what it is," Santana states factually, pulling her drink back in and sipping her coffee with a neutral expression. 

"Are you two ok?" Karofsky asks carefully.

Santana meets his eyes. "We're good," she admits honestly. "Managing to live with Lady Lips and Berry has been worse than worrying about Fabray eventually flipping out on me."

"I still can't believe you moved to New York," Karofsky muses.

Shrugging, she answers, "It's different. Rachel's gross boy-toy is totally sketchy though. But I think I'm gonna like it. So many more people, and nobody gives a damn if you're different." Toying with a sugar packet, a faint smile pulls at Santana's lips. "You'd probably like it, too, D. The Big Apple is known to be accepting."

Basking in her relaxed state, he smiles back. "Maybe one day I'll get there. But for now, things are better, and here isn't the worst place to be."

Straightening up, Santana gives him a light kick under the table. "I want the full deets about this joker, now. How did you meet? Do I need to kick his ass?"

Karofsky lets out a chuckle. "Reign it in, killer. Jamie's a good guy. He's a freshman at the junior college. We're going for dinner next weekend."

Santana's eyes shone. "Word of advice, take him to Breadstix. Totes romantic, trust me. Going there made Britt's panties fall off every time."

He grinned back at her. "I'll take your word for it, S."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Karofsky logs into Facebook and grins to himself when he sees Santana is on chat.

"Sup, bitch?" he types.

"OMG, you wouldn't believe me," is her quick reply.

Concerned, he hunches over the keyboard, typing. "???"

A beat passes, then, "Thought RB was preggers."

Karofsky's eyes widen and he nearly breaks the keys as he types out, "WTF times 10!"

"I know!" comes Santana's all-caps response. "It gets better/worse!"

Frowning, he taps out an answer and waits. The words appear rapidly in the chat box. "False alarm. But her sketch bf? Thought he was drug dealer. Turns out he's a hooker."

"You're making shit up," he accuses.

"Wish I was," comes the rapid-fire response. "But all cool now. R kicked his sorry ass to the curb. BTW, if you laugh at this, I'll have to kick your sorry ass. Long story short, me and Berry caught Hummel cuddling his bf pillow. He bought us each one and K gave mine a sex change to be gf pillow - even sewed a boob on it. Don't tell anyone, but soooo comfy."

Karofsky honestly laughs out loud reading this. "OMG, Lopez, that is the funniest shit I've heard in months."

"Shut your damn face, fairy! Just wait, Imma buy you a bf pillow, then you understand."

"Awww, you love your roomies, admit it. So cute!"

An obscenity-laden written response greets him. 

He decides to stop making fun of her. "Me and Jamie got another date tomorrow..."

Santana immediately types back. "D! Details!"

Biting his lip, Karofsky composes his response. "Been going good. Really like him. Could mean something."

"When do I meet him? Need to give warning if he hurts you, I go Lima Heights on his scrawny ass. Still got razor blades all up in my hair."

Karofsky laughs as he reads her answer. "S, you're not a bad-ass, you're a softie. What about you? Any girls you into?" 

There's a long pause before he gets an answer. "None of your business." Several minutes pass. Suddenly his screen reveals Santana has signed off. Karofsky looks on, puzzled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Santana/Karofsky as a BroTP. Much like I also love Puck/Santana and Santana/Sam as bros. This fic will concentrate on these friendships, along with romantic Brittana, Quintanna, and eventual Pezberry.

"Santana!" he shouts urgently at her voicemail. "Call me, it's important!" Karofsky chokes back a sob as he leaves the message.

"Shhh, babe," Jamie soothes, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm here."

Letting out a muted sniffle, Karofsky nods. "I know, and I appreciate it. I just..." he grapples for words. "I need to talk to San."

Nodding, Jamie rubs circles on his back. "I know, Dave. She's your best friend and you need her right now. It's ok." Karofsky leans into him with a sad sigh.

A ringtone interrupts them. Karofsky barely glances at the screen. "S?" he whimpers. 

"D," her strong and steady voice answers back. "I'm here."

"No matter what we went through, I still loved my dad," Karofsky says haltingly. "And now he's gone."

Santana takes in a deep breath. "Oh, Dave, how?"

"Heart attack. It was out of the blue," he answers, relishing in Jamie's soothing touch. 

"I'll be on the first flight in," she responds immediately.

"You don't have to - " he starts, but is cut off by her quick tongue. 

"You and boy-toy pick me up at the airport." With that said, the line goes dead.

"Well?" Jamie questions, still rubbing Karofsky's back.

He holds back a sob. "We need to be at the airport in a few hours."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Karofsky sits numbly through his father's service, Jamie on one side and Santana on his other. Each holds a hand tightly, giving silent support. When it's over, the trio travels to the Lima Bean. His boyfriend and best friend continuously eye each other warily. 

"So, Jimmy," the Latina starts.

"Jamie," the boy in question interrupts calmly. Karofsky resists the urge to roll his eyes. Obviously Auntie Snix is about to come out to play and make sure his boyfriend is good enough.

Santana glares. "Ok, Jamie." Suspicion laces her tone. "Tell me about you. What are you like?" She doesn't give him a chance to respond. "What are your intentions with my boy here?"

"Oh, dear God," Karofsky utters to himself, resisting the urge to snap at Santana.

Still keeping his cool, Jamie takes Karofsky's hand. "I just like being with him and like seeing him happy."

"For now," Santana snarks.

Having enough, Karofsky drops his boyfriend's hand and rises. With a firm grip on Santana's bicep, he excuses them and drags her away. "What the hell is with you?" he hisses at her when they are a safe distance away. "My dad just died, you could be a little nicer!"

Softening immediately, the Latina lays a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Dave. The situation has me overly worried about you. I don't want you getting hurt more than you already are."

Furrowing his brows, Karofsky studies her closely. "It's more than that," he accuses. "And why did you blank me like that on Facebook when I asked if you were interested in anyone?"

Santana looks away. "It's stupid."

"No, it's not. San, you know you can tell me anything."

"IlikeRachel," she rushes out, not meeting his eyes.

Karofsky frowns. "Um, what? I couldn't understand you." He's genuinely confused.

"Dammit," Santana snaps at him. "I like Rachel, ok? I'm that stupid fucking stereotypical lesbian you hear about. I've got a dead-end straight girl crush." Realizing her volume was a little loud, she quieted herself. "And on Rachel, of all people!"

Karofsky blinks. "Rachel? Rachel Berry?"

"Yes!" she all but shouted back bitterly.

Unable to stop himself and relieved to have a little humor to chase away his grief, he begins to laugh.

"God dammit, D, it's not funny!" she grinds out between clenched teeth.

"S, it really is. You pretty much hated her through most of high school, and now you've got the hots for her." Seeing her stricken expression, he tucked away his laughter. "Ok, calm down. It's probably not a real crush. It's just you guys are roomies and have gotten close, and you're in need of a little lady lovin'. You need to get out there and meet someone. I'm thinking this means I need to come visit you in New York and be your wingman at some gay clubs."

Santana visibly relaxes. "You've got a point. We'll have to arrange a visit. And Dave, I really am sorry about your dad. Sorry for freaking out and drawing your attention away."

Shrugging, Karofsky pulls her into a hug. "No biggie."

Eyes gleaming, she separates from him. "Now tell me more about the mysterious Jamie."


	7. Chapter 7

Pointing, Karofsky motions to a redhead by the bar. "What about her?"

Slapping his hand down, Santana says, "Don't point! And she's not my type."

Pursing his lips, he glares at her. "What the fuck is your type then, Lopez? Blonde?" Seeing he struck a nerve, Karofsky feels his jaw drop. "Shit, San! I thought you were over Brittany?"

Santana worries her lower lip with her teeth. "She was my first love."

"Oh, S, hon, you gotta move on," he laments. 

"Shut up," she grumbles despondently. "How's J?"

Karofsky brightens. "I could see myself marrying him one day," he offers conspiratorially.

"Oh my God! Please tell me I'm your best man?"

"You're a chick," he reminds her. 

Scoffing, Santana looks at him. "You know what I meant, you ass."

"Hmmm, I'll have to think about it," Karofsky volleys back playfully. 

"Jerk," Santana intones, chewing on the straw of her drink. 

"Oooh, I could make you wear a tux!" he continues teasing.

She sets her glass back down. "That'd be kinda cool, actually. I could rock a tux hardcore." Her phone buzzes on the table, signaling an incoming text. Picking it up, she briefly reads it. "Ugh, that damn Rachel."

"Still got that crush?" he teases.

Rolling her eyes, Santana finishes texting and sets her phone back down. "Whatevs, D. You were right. It was that close proximity thing and missin' getting my mack on."

Curiously Karofsky observes her. "So what's she want?"

"Asking when, or if, I'll be home tonight. Kurt is out and she's lonely or some shit." The Latina shrugs her shoulders.

"Do you need to go home and check on her?" Karofsky asks worriedly, watching how his friend keeps glancing at her phone.

Setting her phone aside and taking a long pull of her drink, Santana shakes her head. "Nah, she'll be ok. Now what do you think of that chick over there? Think she'd be into me?"

Craning his head, Karofsky observes the brunette at the next table. "Totally. Go for it, San."

Shooting him a cocky grin, Santana slams her empty glass down on the table before stalking away to flirt with the girl.


	8. Chapter 8

"Holy shit," Karofsky mutters as he steps into the room and sees his ex-beard. 

Okay, several years have gone by, and he shouldn't be tearing up on her wedding day. But watching Santana in her pantsuit, holding the blonde's hands and promising forever? Totally makes Karofsky get teary. Don't judge him, it's totally reflexes, that's all.

It's ridiculous how simple yet complex the ceremony is. The minute Santana says, "I do," he loses it and cries openly. 

Santana shakes her head. As much as Puck has always been her lesbro, Dave will always hold a special place in her heart.

"I do," Brittany repeats, pulling the brunette's hands close to her chest.

As the officiant declares them wife and wife, Santana has to hold back her own tears. Her life-long dream has come true. She has wanted to marry Brittany since they first met in kindergarten, and now it has come true. The third day of kindergarten, the Latina threw the class Barbies in the dirt and declared Brittany was prettier than them. At that moment, watching her friend's adoring gaze, Santana first felt Brittany was her forever. She didn't understand what the feeling meant at the time, but now she totally gets it.

Santana and Brittany played wedding with one another as kids, and their fake ceremonies always had two brides. That should have been a sign, obviously.

Now it's the wedding reception and Santana has to be dragged away from dancing with her wife. She finds herself dancing with Karofsky. "Hey, D. Where's J?"

"He's around," Karofsky replies, spinning her around. "I'm proud of you, ya know."

Wrinkling her nose, the brunette glances up at him. "Huh?"

Smiling softly, he pulls her in closer. "San, you got outed in the worst way possible. You went through hell and lost your girl, but then pulled it together. I admire you."

"Stop it," the Latina admonishes, swatting his chest. "You haven't done so badly yourself. Remember when you and Jamie got married last year? That was a kick-ass wedding, despite Berry getting ridiculously drunk and falling on the dance floor, as amusing as it was," Santana says.

Karofsky rolls his eyes and dips the brunette on the dance floor. "Whatever, S, you were still crushing on her at the time, so don't bullshit me."

Santana scoffs and slugs him in the arm. "I was misguided, okay!"

Brittany swoops in suddenly, grabbing her new wife by the waist. "I'm stealing her back, Dave. She's all mine."

Karofsky smiles warmly at the newly-married couple. "Enjoy yourself, Britt."


	9. Chapter 9

Karofsky bounces his leg nervously, eyes sweeping the hospital waiting room impatiently. Puck occupies the chair immediately across from him, while Rachel and Sam sit on either side of him. 

Brittany was admitted four hours ago, her nervous wife left behind to dwell and worry. 

"San, she's ok. So's the baby," Karofsky soothes, grasping the Latina's shoulder.

"You don't know that, D," Santana says, shrugging away from him. "What if something goes wrong?"

Smiling, Karofsky squeezes her hand. "This is the Pierce-Lopez baby, nothing can go wrong."

"Santana, the chances of a woman going into childbirth having medical difficulties these days is statistically low and - "

"Can it, Rach," the Latina cuts the shorter girl off. "You might be family, but I won't hesitate to cut you right now if you keep talking while I'm this nervous."

Rachel wisely shuts up and leans back into the blue chair. 

"Yo, Lezpez, it's all good. Calm the fuck down. She's gonna spit out your lady baby any moment," Puck states in his usual uncouth way. 

Rachel slaps his arm. "Noah, that's so inappropriate. Brittany won't be 'spitting out' anything," she says, using finger quotes. "She will be giving birth to her and Santana's baby, which is a beautiful thing."

"I'm just trying to calm my lesbro down," Puck argues, gesturing to Santana, who is furiously pacing the waiting area. 

"Well, your 'lesbro,'" again with the damn finger quotes, "doesn't need vulgarity and inaccurate statements to calm her worries."

"Will all of you just shut up? She's nervous enough," Karofsky breaks in, watching Santana scowl and look at her watch.

Sam nods his head rapidly. "Word. I don't want Snix to be unleashed in this environment."

"Lopez?" a nurse calls out, stepping into the room, causing Santana to stop her relentless pacing.

"Pierce-Lopez," Santana immediately corrects her.

"Sorry," the nurse apologizes. "Your wife is asking for you."

Santana freezes and zeroes in on Karofsky. "Dave, holy shit. I'm about to be a mom. Me and Britts are having a kid." The Latina looks around wildly, hands fidgeting. "Where the fuck is Quinn? And Kurt? They said they'd be here!"

"San, calm down," Karofsky urges her carefully, hoping to calm her. 

Santana exhales loudly. "My wife is about to have our kid. I don't even know how to handle this." The Latina looks like she's about to enter a full-fledged panic attack. 

Karofsky grasps her shoulders and forces her to face him. "Look, Lopez, your wife is about to have your son. He's gonna be awesome, and as Brittany would say, the most unicorn of them all. You two are about to have a beautiful child who will love his two moms, as well as his Aunt Quinn, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Kurt, Uncle Puck, Uncle Sam, and Uncle Dave."

Breathing slower, Santana gazes back at him. "Guess you're right, D. I should get back in that room, huh?"

Shooting her a wry grin, Karofsky slaps her back. "Britt needs you."

She sends him a smile. "I gots this, loser."

Approximately three hours later, Carlos Pierce-Lopez comes into the world, screaming his presence loudly. Santana proudly cuts the cord and fights her urge to punch the nurse who takes him away to clean him up. She just wants the evidence of her and Brittany's love close by. 

When the nurse brings Carlos back to them, Santana struggles with her tears as she cradles the newborn in her arms. "Britt-Britt, look what we made."

Brittany looks up exhaustedly from her hospital bed and comments, "He's perfect, San. He's got my chin and your nose." 

"I bet he ends up with your eyes, too, babe," the Latina says, transferring the newborn to her wife's arms.

"How can he have my eyes when I already have them?" the blonde deadpans, drawing the infant close to her chest. 

"Knock, knock!" Quinn calls, sliding into the hospital room, followed closely by Rachel and Kurt. Karofsky quietly slips in after.

Santana brightens immediately. "Q! Look at our little man! Isn't he handsome?"

Quinn reaches a hand out to stroke the baby's small arm. "That he is, S."

Clapping his hands together excitedly, Kurt beams at the assembled group. "Announcement of the godparents, please?"

"Ugh," Santana rolls her eyes. "Tough choice. But I think it's fairly obvious Fabray is our godmother. She's been me and Britt's best friend since middle school."

Rachel looks slightly put out but laughs joyously nonetheless while Quinn looks triumphant.

"And the godfather?" Kurt asks. "Santana, please refrain from bad movie references."

Smirking, the Latina glances at him. "You make it too easy, Lady Hummel. And as much as me and Britts debated, and considered Berry for the role - " here, Rachel lets out an indignant squawk of protest, "just kidding, Rach. We narrowed it down to you, Sam, Puck, and Dave." She clears her throat, eyes meeting Karofsky's briefly. "Of all my high school beards, only one really stuck out." Shifting nervously, Santana announces, "So, D, you're the Pierce-Lopez baby's godfather."

Unable to stop himself, Karofsky chokes out a happy sob. "Really?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Fucking fairy," she says good-naturedly.


	10. Chapter 10

Carlos Pierce-Lopez is now four years old, and has the strangest fascination with Rachel Berry. 

Of course, Rachel loves the adoration, but it doesn't sit well with Quinn. 

"I'm his damn godmother, why isn't he attached to me?" Quinn complains one afternoon, watching Brittany work the little boy into a clean t-shirt.

"Maybe he's like his mama and is drawn to short brunettes," the other blonde says dryly, smoothing out Carlos' dark curls. "He's got a baby crush on Rachel."

"But his mami likes blondes," Quinn argues weakly.

Brittany fixes the collar of her son's shirt and lightly smacks him on the butt, urging him to run off and play with the other kids. "You're definitely a better influence than Puck. I let San take him to her guys' night once, and he came home and kept saying fuck."

Quinn brings a hand to her mouth to cover her laughter. "No!"

"Yes," Brittany counters. "It's hard to make a four-year old stop repeating things." She sighs. "Then she took Carlos out with her for an afternoon with Kurt, and afterwards he kept criticizing my outfit."

The other blonde lets out a genuine giggle at this. "He didn't!"

Shaking her head, Brittany snatches up the boy's dirty shirt. "He really did. Told me my shirt was so last season."

The front door opens, and Santana's voice fills the room. "Babe, I'm home."

Santana steps into the room. "Oh, hey, Q." Turning to Brittany she asks, " Where's our little man?"

Smiling, Brittany gestures to the hallway. "Tana, he's playing with Anna and Ethan. Don't interrupt them."

"Our baby boy can wait for sweet lady kisses," Santana agrees, squeezing Brittany's bicep and leaning in to peck the blonde's lips.

"Eww, you two are sickeningly cute," Quinn interjects, fake gagging.

Santana twirls around and eyes her with a smirk. "Don't hate, Fabray." 

"I think Carlos has a little crush on Rachel," Brittany admits, smiling.

"He obviously didn't inherit my taste," Santana says, rolling her eyes. 

Brittany laughs. "I think it's cute."

"I suppose that's better than him liking Dave and Jamie's kid," Santana says, watching Carlos help Ethan Karofsky onto the couch. 

Quinn snorts as a thought enters her mind. "Wouldn't it be funny if he really did like Ethan, and was as gay as his mami? He's obviously got your influence, San, and with Kurt and Dave around all the time, it's very possible."

"We obviously wouldn't love him any less if he was," Brittany announces, observing Carlos offer Ethan his red sippy cup.

Santana chimes in. "Agreed, we'd love him the same. But I don't think being the offspring of a lesbian couple has anything to do with it. I mean, my parents are straight, and look how I turned out. Besides, he's got his straight male influences in Sam and Puck. It could go either way."

Quinn hums in agreement. "You have a point." There's a knock at the door. Brittany rises and answers it to find a flustered Karofsky juggling an infant on his broad chest. "Hey, B, is Ethan ready to go?"

"Of course, Dave, come on in," Brittany responds, letting him in.

Santana sees him enter the room and beams as she rises from her seat. "Bro!" she trills, fist-bumping him and then tenderly stroking the dark hair of the infant strapped to Karofsky. "Robin is a gorgeous baby."

"I know," Karofsky agrees, smiling proudly. "When are you and Britt gonna have another?" 

Santana's eyes widen comically. "Uh," she stutters. 

Seeing her panic, Karofsky pulls her out of earshot of Brittany and Quinn. After years of friendship, he recognizes the look on Santana's face. "You haven't talked to her about it, have you? That you want another baby?"

Santana looks down. "No, D, I haven't. I don't want to scare her, but I want another kid. And I'm just not prepared to carry it myself. I hate to ask her to put her body through that again."

Karofsky reaches a hand up and ruffles the Latina's dark hair, much to her annoyance, and states, "Tana, I don't think it would bother her. That woman loves you to the end of the earth. Just ask her."

"You think?" Santana asks quietly, thumb rubbing Robin's tiny cheek gently.

"I know," Karofsky asserts confidently. 

Santana draws in a nervous breath. "Ok, D, I'll talk to her about it."

"That's the spirit!" Karofsky crows, grinning at her. "Now where's my son?"

"Britt!" Santana hollers. "Get this asshole his kid!"

"Language, San!" Brittany and Quinn call in unison. 

Santana rolls her eyes. "Women," she scoffs.


End file.
